


Between Friends and Something More

by heartlikethat



Series: Instant Star AU [2]
Category: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, F/M, Friends To Whatever They Are, Instant Star au, The Age Gap Is Still There But Now Zoey Is 21, The Sequel That No One Asked For But I Wrote Anyway, Writing This Makes Me Happy & If Reading It Doesn’t Make You Happy Then Bye 👋🏼 Bye 👋🏼 Bye 👋🏼
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28217580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartlikethat/pseuds/heartlikethat
Summary: Four years later, Zoey and Max are back in each other’s lives and there’s no denying they’ve always been drawn to one another, despite how problematic their situation was in the beginning. But as they try to sort out their feelings now, well, a lot happened during the time they were apart and the past comes back to haunt them both.*so this is currently on hiatus while I work on my other story, but don’t worry, who I am as a person won’t allow me to let anything go unfinished (because anxiety)*
Relationships: Zoey Clarke/Max Richman
Series: Instant Star AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067138
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	1. What’s Going On With You And Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahah oh boy! Never did I ever think I’d write in this alternate universe again after Crossing The Line got so much heat and ripped apart on Discord (lol which btw, _ouch_ ), but I was rewatching Instant Star (because nostalgia) and listen, it gave my brain some ideas. 
> 
> If Zoey and Max seem ooc, it’s because I’m morphing them with the characters of Instant Star. It is what it is, but I’ll try my best to get the characterization somewhat believable.
> 
> Quick Recap! The last story ended with Zoey, now 21, an official SPRQ Point employee for six months and Max (27) as the 6th floor boss. She saw Max in the coffee shop, asked him on a date, blah blah blah. This story is actually gonna rewind 3 months from that moment because I want to write some stuff that happens beforehand.
> 
> Let’s begin.

When Zoey pictured her twenty-first birthday, she envisioned a more...quiet affair. Like maybe polishing off a cheap bottle of wine with her best friend, Mo, in their newly acquired apartment.

It was a shoddy little two bedroom in a rundown building where most days the water vacillated between exactly two temperatures, bone-chillingly cold or freeze your ass off frigid.

It wasn’t _ideal_ , but it was theirs. 

Well, it was theirs with a one year lease and moderately affordable rent, which was still a ridiculous amount because it was San Francisco. But it was in Glen Park, a decent neighborhood that had its own BART station, so commuting to work and her parent’s house was a breeze. She’d take the win.

Zoey, at the age of only twenty, had been offered and accepted a full-time position as a programmer at SPRQ Point. It was an impressive achievement and Zoey was damn proud of herself for it, although all her bragging remained internal.

She’d never been one to flaunt her success or her brilliant mind. Reserved by nature, she much preferred to exist on the outskirts of the spotlight.

Which was why when Mo suggested they celebrate her birthday at a club — The Make Out Place — she balked. The name alone made every muscle in her body clench, every fiber of her being cringe. But Mo couldn’t be deterred, he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, so Zoey begrudgingly resigned herself to her fate. At least she’d be able to drink.

Of course, things went from pretty damn bad to entirely catastrophic when there was a bug in the SPRQ Watch that shared calendar events and Tobin caught wind of her birthday plans and decided to turn it into a Whole Event.

Soon, he had extended an invitation to basically everyone at work, plus his buddies from grade school, high school, college, and even his favorite froyo shop. Apparently, there was no shortage of people for him to summon to come and celebrate the twenty-first anniversary of her birth.

Tobin declared it would be epically dope. In Zoey’s mind, she deemed it her own _Extraordinary Nightmare._

However, with her birthday being the 29th of December, a Thursday, the party was set for Saturday and it rapidly transformed into less of a birthday celebration and more of a New Year’s Eve bash. A sweet, silver lining.

* * *

After slinging a sparkly purple sash that read ‘100% That Birthday Bitch’ around her torso and shoving a shot glass in her hand to partake in an obligatory toast, Tobin made himself scarce for the rest of the evening to throw his body around on the dance floor.

Which meant Zoey was now free to scout out a vacant booth and seek refuge from the chaos. She was perfectly content to sit right there with Mo and leisurely sip on her vodka cranberry, watching as her coworkers (who were now sort of her friends) made utter fools of themselves. 

Mo, on the other hand, had other plans. Because why should Zoey get to choose how she wanted to spend _her_ birthday?

“Come on, girl, get up! Let’s dance!” he said before she even had a chance to down her first drink, grabbing her by the elbow and practically yanking her onto her feet. Zoey, however, dug her heels into the ground like a stubborn mule.

“Mo,” she heaved an exaggerated sigh. “We’ve been friends for fifteen years. When have I ever willingly danced in public?”

Despite her best efforts to remained rooted to the spot, she still found herself being dragged onto the dance floor. “You’re wound up tighter than my ponytail, you need to _let loose_ for once in your life!”

Zoey threw him a smirk, tilting her head as she crossed her arms. “I’m a Capricorn, I’m pretty sure that’s impossible.”

But Mo just shook his head and clapped his hands. “Shut up and dance, Zoey!”

* * *

Zoey ended up dancing until the pounding of the music turned into the pounding of an excruciating headache, which had her making a hasty retreat to chug a glass of water and resume hiding herself away in a booth somewhere.

And now, it was fifteen minutes until midnight. 

Mo was still absolutely crushing it on the dance floor, hadn’t spared a glance her way in ages, and Zoey was thinking it was the perfect time to make her great escape when Max slid into the booth next to her. An unexpected, but pleasant surprise.

“Clarke,” he said as way of greeting.

A small smile quirked her mouth as she nodded her head toward him. “Richman,” she greeted back. “I didn’t think you’d be here tonight.”

If she was being truthful, her eyes had scanned the crowded club for his warm, familiar face more than a few times over the course of the night, but ultimately concluded he wasn’t there. She knew he must have gotten the invite from Tobin, but she hadn’t reached out to Max to confirm whether or not he planned to attend. The current status of _whatever they were_ was...to be determined.

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“Just never pegged you for a club enthusiast, I guess.” Zoey shrugged, shifting a bit closer to him, the faint scent of his cologne filling the space between them.

“I could say the same about you.” He gently nudged her shoulder, a playful smile on his lips.

“Yeah, I’m really not. I’m only comfortable dancing alone in my bedroom. And even that’s a stretch. Mo orchestrated the whole thing, forced me into _this_ monstrosity against my will.” She gestured at her black sequin shift dress. “Then he attacked my face with a million different sponges and brushes.” Her face contorted into a grimace as she shuddered at the memory. “I just wanted to get wine drunk and watch some shitty movie.”

Max regarded her with a grin. “I don’t know, it looked like you were having at least a little bit of fun out there.”

“Oh _god_ ,” she groaned, covering her face with her hands. “You saw that?” She could feel the heat creep into her cheeks.

“Kinda hard to miss you out there,” he teased.

“Because of my hair?” Her hands dropped to her lap as she peered over at him. “Or because of my _amazing_ dance moves?”

Max’s eyes skittered off to the side. “Ah, something like that,” he murmured before twisting his body away from her. “So, uh, I actually got something for you.” There was a nervous edge to his voice as he swiveled back around to face her, handing over a small parcel wrapped in brown paper. “For your birthday.”

Turning it over in her hands, she tested its weight. Solid, but light. Slipping a finger beneath where the paper was taped down, she tugged until it gave way and carefully peeled back the paper to reveal a leatherback journal.

A small smile appeared on her face.

“I remember you always used to carry around a journal back...back then. You seemed to write in it quite a lot. Uh, maybe you don’t do that anymore or maybe you already have a better one, but with it almost being a new year...I don’t know...” He lifted a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, bowing his head. “I just thought, a new journal could symbolize...a new start?”

Without asking for permission, her reckless heart jumped straight into her throat as his words washed over her. Did he mean a new start for _them?_

They’d only been back in each other’s lives for three months, easily falling into friendship again like no time had passed at all. Like it hadn’t been four years since Zoey left Max on the rooftop garden of SPRQ Point, both admitting there was _something_ between them. Although whatever connection they seemed to share was just as undefined and unexplored now as it was back then.

Their recent time spent together had been strictly limited to the occasional run-in at work or their few planned lunch dates a month. Not exactly the most opportune situations to dissect their messy, complicated, and, of course, slightly problematic history.

But with Max just inches away and a giant screen counting down the final sixty seconds of the year, she supposed they could kiss now, figure the rest out later.

That’s what people did at midnight on New Year’s Eve, right? Enthusiastically kissed the face off of another person as they crossed the threshold into a new beginning? It didn’t necessarily have to mean anything. And it wouldn’t mean anything. Just two friends sharing a kiss for the sake of tradition.

Meeting Max’s gaze, Zoey deduced his thoughts must be mirroring her own because his eyes wandered down to her mouth and he was suddenly much closer than he was only a moment ago.

With ten seconds left, Zoey held her breath in anticipation. The rational part of her brain, the part she normally heeded, calmly noted that _this probably isn’t the best idea_. In the background, she could vaguely discern as the crowd collectively began to shout out.

“Nine! Eight! Seven!”

A warm, trembling hand cupped the back of her neck, drawing her closer as butterflies swarmed her stomach and rationality faded away.

“Six! Five! Four!”

Her eyelids drifted shut when she felt his hand slide up, his fingers threading in her hair.

“Three! Two!”

The table jostled violently as a couple, completely obliterated and reeking of tequila, crashed into it with their mouths fused together.

Zoey and Max sprang apart, their heads snapping to regard the scene before them, where bodies and limbs were now sprawled across the table, the couple sucking the life out of each other for all to bare witness.

Sharing a look with Max that was equal parts horrified and amused, they scrambled their way out of the booth and moved far, far away.

When they felt they had retreated to a safe location, they stopped, locked eyes, and started laughing.

As her laughter subsided, Zoey tucked her hair behind her ears, nervously shifting on her feet. “Thanks for...the birthday gift. I better go find Mo. He’s probably wondering where I am.”

She doubted that to be true, Mo was probably still dancing the night away without a care in the world where Zoey had darted off to.

But her voice of reason had returned and much like they needed to put some distance between themselves and the couple about to fornicate on top of the table, Zoey needed to put some distance between herself and Max.

Because while kissing Max certainly seemed like it would be fun, what happened beyond that? Zoey couldn’t very well ignore the obvious fact that he was still significantly older than her. For all she knew, Max was ready to settle down and wanted someone he could start a family with. She couldn’t give him that. Not when she was just starting out in her career and thoughts of marriage and babies weren’t even a tiny speck on her radar of what she wanted in the next five years.

And so with a quick wave and a promise to see each other around, the two parted ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re not down for some over-the-top drama, this isn’t the story for you. Because that’s what I feel like writing. Ridiculous, Lifetime movie level drama. With some cute, fluffy little moments sprinkled sporadically.


	2. Won’t Pass Me By (No, Not This Time)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote the coffee shop scene and it’s at the end of this chapter. All the dialogue and main aspects remain the same, I just added some details to fit more with the general vibe and direction of this story.
> 
> Aaaand if anyone has interest in watching the show that inspired this fic and you live in the United States, all four seasons are on YouTube!! ⬇️
> 
> https://m.youtube.com/channel/UC0SLXu44m_CxVF24CHaFzSA

“Doing it alone in the alley? That’s the first sign of addiction, Richman,” Zoey teased as she came to a stop beside him, joining him as he leaned back against the large glass window pane.

She had been on her way back from grabbing lunch when she spotted Max in the space between the SPRQ Point building and the neighboring law firm, his brow furrowed as he mainlined a bag of red licorice.

It was mid-January, a couple of weeks after their ‘almost kiss’ on New Year’s Eve, which they had yet to discuss. What even was there to say, anyway, when the kiss hadn’t _actually_ happened and it only _almost_ happened because of the extrinsic influences of alcohol and the atmosphere in which they found themselves at that precise moment in time? Delete those two factors from the equation and there wouldn’t even be an ‘almost kiss’ for Zoey to overanalyze. 

Stealing a sideways glance at Zoey, his lips curved up slightly. “I can stop any time I want,” he assured her before taking another bite so he could resume chewing in deep contemplation. He swallowed and remained silent a long moment before offering her the bag of candy. “Want some? The first taste is always free.”

With a grin, she pulled out a piece of licorice. “Thanks.” They settled back into silence.

When Zoey was on her third round of biting off a chunk of the Red Vine (which were far superior to Twizzlers and she was happy to note that Max had _taste_ ), she heard the soft thud of his head as it fell back to rest on the glass window. 

Peering over at him, his gaze was fixed skyward and she waited patiently for him to unleash what was on his mind.

“Things back home aren’t exactly... _great_...at the moment,” he admitted without divulging any details. “And even if I could somehow manage to take some time off, find someone to run the sixth floor, I feel like me being there would make the situation _more_ stressful. So, I’m stuck feeling guilty that I’m _not_ there, but...” he trailed off, dragging his free hand down his face as he exhaled a deep, staggering sigh.

“So basically, you’re damned if you do, damned if you don’t?”

He snorted, still looking up. “Exactly.”

“Is it because of your dad? The reason why it’d be more stressful, I mean. Given that the two of you have such a...strained relationship?”

Max tilted his head down, his expression bewildered as he regarded her. “You remember that?”

Zoey felt her face grow warm. Truthfully, it probably was a little _crazy_ that she could so easily recall a single conversation that took place between them years ago, practically a lifetime ago, yet somehow it still managed to feel like only yesterday that she had seen that dejected look on Max’s face as he spoke of his father. Maybe it was because he wore such a similar expression now that she found herself back in the memory of that day.

“I mean, I remember pretty much everything. My memory is impeccable,” she deflected, ducking her head. “And, uh, nothing about you is easy to forget,” she added in a quiet voice, the tips of her ears burning, to the point that had her wondering if they’d burst into flames. Zoey was glad her hair was down so Max couldn’t detect any visible proof of her embarrassment.

“I thought about you a lot,” she continued, now wondering why she couldn’t seem to stop the word vomit that was spewing from her mouth. “I’m sorry if me saying that makes you uncomfortable.” She chanced a look at him then to assess his response, her curiosity overriding the desire to hide her flushed cheeks.

To her surprise, Max threw her a smile, a tentative one, but a smile all the same. “It’s okay. I...I thought about you, too,” he confessed in a low tone.

Her stomach gave a flip. She wanted to ask if that was still the case, if he was currently just as consumed by thoughts of her as she was by thoughts of him.

Instead, she steered the conversation back to what had him looking and feeling so distraught when she first stumbled across him. “Well, if you ever want to talk about... _anything_ , you have my number. And I’m just—” she held up two fingers and then pointed at the ground, “two floors down.”

Max emitted a soft chuckle. “Thanks, Clarke.”

She pushed away from the glass and began walking backwards to head back into work. “Are we still on for lunch Thursday?”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he yanked out a piece of licorice from the bag in his hand. “Like you even have to ask.” She carried his grin with her as she disappeared around the corner.

* * *

Zoey was scrunched up sideways on the accent chair, legs dangling over the armrest, laughing quietly at a text she just received from Max when Mo loudly inquired, “Why don’t you just ask him out already?”

“Who?” Zoey asked, playing dumb.

Mo gave her a pointed look as he sat down across from her, a cup of tea in his hands. “The person you’ve been texting nonstop for weeks, always smiling at your phone and flouncing about the apartment like you’re a Disney princess smitten with Prince Charming.”

Zoey huffed from her spot on the chair. “I don’t _flounce_.” She did, however, text Max practically nonstop ever since their encounter in the alley a few weeks back. He had taken her up on the offer to talk about anything and everything, although the topics of discussion remained mostly lighthearted and inconsequential.

“Mhm, whatever you say, Zinderella.” Mo’s flippant tone only served to heighten her indignation.

“We’re _just friends_ ,” Zoey emphasized. “Besides, we’re at two completely different places in our lives, I doubt I could ever possibly give him what he wants.” She clung tightly onto that knowledge, allowed that very thought to run rampant in her mind her and taunt her, day after day.

_I can’t give him what he wants._

“Have you asked him what he wants?”

Zoey froze, pursing her lips. “Well, _no_ , not exactly—”

“Then how are you so damn sure you know what he wants then, hm?” Mo arched an eyebrow at her before taking a judgmental sip of tea.

Zoey shrugged. “I’m just making an educated guess,” she mumbled ruefully.

Mo heaved a dramatic sigh before fixing her with a disgruntled look. “When’s the last time you went on a date? Or did anything remotely fun?”

“Hey, you know how busy I’ve been the last few years, my schedule didn’t exactly allot much time for any extracurricular activities,” Zoey hastened to defend herself. Earning a Master’s degree at twenty years old required sheer dedication and sacrifices had to be made. Who needed a social life, anyway?

“What’s your excuse now? You’ve been working at SPRQ Point for five months and the only time you’ve left this apartment is when I’ve dragged you out of it. I’m not saying you need to date Max specifically, but you could definitely benefit from some romance and spontaneity in your life.”

Zoey’s insides squirmed at the idea of being spontaneous. “I don’t know...I wouldn’t even know where to begin...”

Eagerness illuminated Mo’s face as he abruptly surged forward to set the mug down on the coffee table. “Lucky for you, I hijacked your phone while you were in the shower and took the liberty of making you a Tinder profile and swiping right on the men I felt were best suited for your, uh—” Mo wagged his fingers as he considered his words, “pragmatic personality. You have got _a lot_ of matches, by the way.”

“You did what now?” Zoey scrambled to sit upright, perching herself on the edge of the chair as she shot Mo a disbelieving glare.

“Zoey, we both know you’d never put yourself out there, so I did it for you! You should be thanking me right now.”

“Why yes, _thank you_ , Mo. Thank you _so much_ for impersonating me without my prior knowledge or consent.” Her words were positively oozing with sarcasm. “Now, strange men in the near vicinity know exactly what I look like and they can just stop me in the street because they’re under the impression I must be super into them because I _swiped right_.”

“You’re welcome,” Mo said, completely unfazed by Zoey’s obvious displeasure. “I’m just saying, it could be fun. Or it could be a disaster. Who knows, could be both!” He nodded his head toward her. “Exciting, right?”

She grated her teeth. “Not the word that comes to mind.”

“Zozo, just do me a favor and at least spare a fleeting glance at your matches.” He stood up and crossed the room, lingering in the hallway as he added, “You might even like what you see.”

Zoey felt very doubtful about that.

When Mo retreated to his bedroom, she seized her phone. Unlocking it, she rifled through her meticulously organized folders until, sure enough, she found the Tinder app hidden amongst all the other social media apps, all of which received the same amount of action as Zoey (which is to say, exactly _zero action_ ).

With her thumb hovering over the little flame icon, she bit down on her lip. _I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to see what viable options are out there..._ she mused.

And a part of her was overwhelmed with curiosity to know what sort of men Mo deemed suitable for her personality.

After scraping her teeth back and forth along her bottom lip a few times, she reached a decision. With her thumb still poised above the app, she pressed down firmly, tapped ‘Remove App’, and then opened up her messages to continue her discussion with Max.

* * *

A few weeks later, a dreary Friday morning in the beginning of March, Zoey entered the Golden Gate Grind to grab a nonfat latte before work.

She had been steadfast in her decision to maintain the status quo, despite Mo’s unyielding efforts to propel her out of her comfort zone. She didn’t need romance and she didn’t need Max to be anything more than her friend.

Her life was perfectly fine as it was and she had no good reason to shake things up. Only a neon sign from the Universe itself could convince her to change her mind.

Zoey certainly wasn’t expecting to be forcibly whacked across the face with that neon sign the second she pushed open the door to the coffee shop.

She easily spotted Max at the exact moment a familiar song began to filter out from the speakers.

_She’s got a way about her, I don’t know what it is, but I know that I can’t live without her. She’s got a way of pleasing, I don’t know what it is, but there doesn’t have to be a reason, anyway_

Like a scene pulled straight out of a cheesy Hallmark movie, she watched as Max’s lips curved into a smile before his head turned in her direction, immediately catching her gaze, his smile widening once he caught sight of her.

Doubts still resided in the back of her mind, nagging thoughts about how she wasn’t enough for Max, that she couldn’t give him what he wanted.

But didn’t they owe it to themselves to at least _try?_ Now that they could? To see what became of the spark that always existed between them?

Feeling a rush of confidence like she had never experienced before, she surrendered her place in line and strolled over to Max, stopping right in front of him.

“So, I know it hasn’t _quite_ been five years, but I do know what I want,” Zoey said, referring back to their rooftop conversation from years ago.

A lot had changed in the four years they were apart, but one thing had remained the same — she still connected with Max in a way she had never connected with another person. 

“Oh yeah?” Recognition flashed across his face, his brown eyes brimming with delight and it was obvious to Zoey that he already knew what she was about to say. “And what’s that?”

“I want to take you to dinner,” she said simply. “Tonight, preferably.”

“Okay, then. It’s a date.”

As they both stood staring at each other with matching goofy smiles on their faces, Zoey figured maybe spontaneity didn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing.


	3. I’ve Got A Date With The Night

All day, Zoey felt like she was floating.

Instead of firing up one of her tried and true podcasts to serve as background noise while she worked, she listened to _music_ , honest to God music. With lyrics and everything. Mo would be proud of her for that.

And then, with that thought in mind, she sent a string of messages to Mo. About how she had a date with Max, about how _she_ asked _him_ on said date like the modern woman she was, and about how she was listening to music at work and wasn’t life just _pretty damn spectacular?_ (Mo’s response to that last text was an eye roll emoji, which was fair)

Not even the fourth floor devolving into chaos could keep the smile off her face or ruin her buoyant mood.

There had been a glitch with their photo sharing app which caused private accounts to become a whole lot _less_ private. Joan berated everyone, but especially Glenn, who looked like he might cry. Tobin cowered in fear. Leif squared his jaw in determination. And Zoey scanned line after line of code, searching for inconsistencies with a lightness in her heart. 

She hadn’t felt giddy like this in years, not since the last time she ventured out into the world of dating, which had ended in pure disaster and public humiliation. But Zoey wouldn’t even give her mind permission to ruminate on what had happened back then. This was going to be entirely _different_. Because this was _Max_. 

That floaty feeling was still present when she burst through the door of her and Mo’s apartment a little after six o’clock that evening.

Mo swarmed her the second she stepped inside, but Zoey swatted away his hands, each one wielding some sort of beauty tool designed to enhance her appearance.

“Mo, I’m not going to get all dolled up for this date. It took me forever to scrub off all that glitter and makeup from New Year’s. I’m just going to be...myself.” She expelled a deep, steady breath, sweeping her hands down her body to signify, well, _herself_. Exactly as she was.

“Zoey Clarke.” He looked almost impressed as he regarded her. “I have never seen you this self-assured. I thought you’d be shaking like a damn leaf.”

She gave a small shrug, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “What can I say? I’ve just got a _really_ good feeling about tonight.”

* * *

The two had made arrangements to meet at the restaurant at seven-thirty, so when Zoey arrived before Max, she secured them a table and waited for him to join her.

After fifteen minutes elapsed and he had yet to make an appearance, Zoey was only the slightest bit anxious, but she hedged a guess that traffic must be impeding him (I mean, it _was_ a Friday night, after all). And so, she casually sipped on her ice water and continued to wait.

When thirty minutes slipped by with still no sign of Max, she decided to call him, to make sure he was alright, that he hadn’t gotten into a horrific accident or to confirm that he was, indeed, gridlocked on I-80 and he was ‘just about to call, but you beat me to it.’ It rang until it went to voicemail. Pulling the phone away from her ear, she ended the call and set the device facedown on the table, chewing on her lower lip.

Another ten minutes ticked by. All the ice in her water had melted and she ignored the pitying looks the lady sitting diagonal kept firing off in her direction. There was no reason to pity her, she hadn’t been stood up, Max would never do that to her, _so mind your own damn business, Karen_.

Zoey breathed a sigh of relief when Max came into view not even a minute later, his eyes darting around as he searched for her in the bustling restaurant and once he caught sight of her, he strode toward her with quick, purposeful steps.

“I thought you weren’t—” shaking her head, she wouldn’t let herself finish that sentence. _Of course_ he would come, he was _here_. Right now, right in front of her. “What happened? Is everything okay?” Then, taking note of how his entire body seemed rigid, his face drawn tight, she added in a softer voice, “Are _you_ okay?”

Without meeting her gaze, he shifted on his feet, opened his mouth to speak before deciding against that course of action in favor of pressing his lips together to form a grim line.

Feeling concerned and half in a daze, she limply gestured toward the chair across from her. “Are you gonna sit?”

Max swallowed heavily, his eyes fixed on a spot just above her head. “I have to leave. I’m sorry.” The tone of his voice was hollow, which unsettled her. She watched as a muscle twitched in his jaw. “I don’t think I’ll be coming back.”

Her mind didn’t register his words. “Just...sit,” she requested, eyes still locked on his face even though he refused to meet her gaze. Zoey had seen him, just this morning, he had looked so _happy_ and so _eager_ about their date. What had changed? In such a short amount of time? “Max, talk to me.”

“I have a flight to catch.”

Anchored in place and struggling to comprehend what was unfolding before her, she peered unblinkingly up at him, waiting for him to elaborate. Surely, he must have more to say on the matter?

However, when Max didn’t offer any further explanation, her eyelids began fluttering rapidly, her breath escaping in a tremulous whoosh as the bubble she’d been encased in all day suddenly popped, sending her heart and her stomach to plummet to the floor.

“So, you’re not coming back?” The question sounded foreign to her ears, it didn’t make any sense. Nothing about this interaction made sense. “Ever?” she implored, gripping tightly onto the edge of the table.

His features remained stolid and in lieu of a response to her question, Max flexed his hands into fists, hesitating a beat before murmuring something that sounded like an apology as he spun around and headed swiftly for the exit without so much as a backwards glance.

Zoey sat there for a moment, too stunned to move. _What the f—?_

Then, feeling an overwhelming sense of urgency to chase after him, to stop him before it was too late, she fumbled for her wallet, cursing under her breath when the zipper got stuck. With a few frantic tugs, it gave way and she tossed a few bills on the table before bolting out of the restaurant.

When she barreled onto the sidewalk, the brisk night air blasted her in the face, permeating the layers of fabric covering her body and making her shiver.

Surveying the surrounding area, she easily spotted his retreating form and jogged after him, calling out his name in desperation. “Max!”

He faltered, just barely, and then kept on walking.

“Max!” She tried again, louder this time, following after him with dread pooling in her stomach because he was already at his car, opening the door and sliding inside. She skidded to a stop on the pavement. The engine turned over, the car pulled away from the curb, and he was gone.

Zoey stared after the taillights until they faded from view, absentmindedly chafing her arms to rid herself of the chill that had seeped into her bones.

* * *

Zoey felt like she was floating again.

Although this time, it was the vodka flowing through her veins, making her brain pleasantly fuzzy and her body as light as a feather that had her feeling like she could just glide right on out of there. ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ herself up, up, and away from the acute stinging in her chest.

She threw back another shot.

“Alcohol is fun and delicious,” she stated to absolutely no one in particular.

An amused chuckle came from beside her and she jerked her head sideways to see a man grinning at her. Floppy blonde hair, green eyes (or were they more hazel with streaks of green?) She squinted, trying to make out the exact color before giving up. They were eyes, at any rate. 

“Something funny?”

“Yeah, you,” he replied, light and teasing.

Zoey snorted, turning her attention back to the empty shot glass in front of her, picking it up and fiddling it around in her hands.

“You’re pretty, too.”

Her head snapped back to meet his gaze, considering him for a second time. He _was_ objectively handsome.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Zoey gave a lazy smile and a halfhearted shrug. “Sure, why not?”

One drink turned into two, then three, and soon Zoey was giggling, wildly gesticulating while she recounted the story of how Tobin’s ferret once scaled the Nest at work and he had to climb Leif like a tree in order to rescue the furry little beast.

Did this stranger (she couldn’t remember his name, it might have been Chaz) care about Tobin or Leif or ferrets or coding at all? Probably not. But that didn’t stop the words from maniacally pouring out of her mouth.

When she finally took a break from her storytelling to down another shot, Chaz (or was it Chad?) reached for her unoccupied hand. “Hey, you wanna get out of here?”

At this point, she was drunk enough that the idea of leaving the bar with a cute, but also a complete and total _stranger,_ didn’t trigger any alarms. Instead, she squeezed his hand and gave an overzealous nod. “Yep!”

“You’re not taking her anywhere,” a familiar voice rang out and suddenly a body was wedging its way between Zoey and the objectively handsome stranger. “Get lost.” The man scrambled away.

“Mo!” Zoey exclaimed with a laugh. “Fancy meeting you here!”

“You texted me your location,” he spoke blankly. 

She threw him a confounded look, her head tilting and eyebrows scrunching together. “I did? When?”

Mo waved away her questions. “What’s going on? What did Max do? I’ve got my fighting nails on. I’m like Wolverine, only daintier.” He feigned inspecting his nails as he furtively scrutinized her expression.

At the mention of Max’s name, Zoey’s face deflated and a vise clamped around her heart. “He left,” she said quietly.

“Like in the middle of dinner?”

“No, he left...” _me_ , she mused dejectedly, “San Francisco.”

Even in her alcohol-induced haze, Zoey could still detect the flash of pity in Mo’s eyes before he commanded, “Well, grab your purse and your dignity, girl! We’re going home.”

* * *

Zoey groaned, throwing an arm over her face as she fought against the harsh tugs of wakefulness that were looming at the edges of her unconscious. She willed them to retreat so she could postpone reality just a little bit longer. Her efforts proved to be in vain when a sharp ache split her head in two, making it impossible for her to drift back to sleep.

Wincing as she climbed out of bed, her brain positively throbbing, she staggered across the hall and into the bathroom, rummaging in the cabinet for Tylenol. She uncapped the bottle, shook two pills into her cupped hand, tossed them into her mouth, and swallowed them aided by water from the sink.

Lifting her gaze to meet her reflection in the mirror, she took in her bloodshot eyes, pallid skin, smeared mascara, and copper hair askew like she’d just been struck by lightning.

She was a hot mess and a pathetic fool.

Zoey had been in this position before, years ago when Max Richman first stepped out of her life. The glaring difference was that, this time, he hadn’t bothered to give her a reason. When she was sixteen, yeah, it had hurt, but she understood. But what about now? Did he truly hold her in such low regard that he couldn’t even offer the truth as to why he needed to leave?

With that knowledge on the forefront of her mind, she felt a ripple of fierce determination surge through her body and she resolved to move forward. No more drinking alone at a bar or wallowing in self-pity because of him.

She had managed to reshape her world back then, a world without Max.

She could do it again.

Of course she could.


End file.
